Chapter 340: Chapter 340
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In the second week of training, Hermione picked up a pile of books on anatomy, physiology, and other disciplines, swallowing the information like some super-scanner. This is all the experience of working in the Restricted Section, where some books you wanted to memorize and put aside as soon as possible, and only then do comprehension.
Harry, Ron, and the twins were actively looking for supporters to join the group. As I realized from all this fuss, some Gryffindors from the fourth, fifth, sixth, and even seventh year had already joined them. Already, through them and their acquaintances, were spreading the word to other Houses.
Hermione and I were constantly busy studying and practicing, returning to the common room often after lights out and no longer sitting on the couch, but half-alive going to wash up and sleep.
So the second week passed, the third, October came, and it became noticeably colder outside. The rare daytime sun was no longer so high in the sky, its rays were no longer so warm, and the nature around gradually acquired darker and darker shades. It was only in the middle of October that the unnamed society for the secret study of magic decided to get together and solve organizational issues. Many, as I understood, did not even know yet how many of them would gather from all Houses except Slytherin. The meeting was scheduled, surprisingly, in the "Hog's Head." Conspirators, damn it. The most obvious place to gather as a group and break the rules by prior agreement. Even Hermione and I were invited, and we even agreed. And all because of Lavender, Parvati, Seamus, and Dean, who somehow joined our company in an unknown way. It's not that we communicate a lot, but somehow it just happened. We are so different sit next to each other in classes, large hall, and common room. So it turned out that when everyone involved was invited to the meeting, the guys looked at each other and told us: "Let's go have a look and listen. If anything, we'll leave."
There was one moment that bothered me about the whole situation at Hogwarts. Since mid-September, Dumbledore has stopped appearing at meals, occasionally flashing here and there at other times. At the same time, he looked extremely worried. I puzzled over this question for quite a long time, until one evening, the day before the scheduled meeting of the nameless order, right after dinner, Professor Snape intercepted me on the way out.
"Mr. Knight, Miss Granger," he nodded, for we did not have his class today and had not yet said hello. As soon as we nodded back, the professor continued: "The headmaster would like to see you, Mr. Knight, in his office. Now. Follow me."
Snape turned abruptly, in his manner, and we followed — the Gryffindor common room is on the way.
"Do you think something's wrong?" she asked with well-hidden concern.
"Are you worried about the headmaster?"
"I'm worried about us. He rarely looks worried. Really worried. Maybe something happened to him, or the Ministry pressured him? It could affect all of us."
We reached the flight of stairs, where Hermione went one way, into the common room, and the professor and I went the other.
"I'll wait in the common room."
I nodded back and followed Snape. It didn't take us long to walk through the dimly torch-lit stone corridors. When we reached the niche with the gargoyle, we didn't find it and immediately stepped into the spiral staircase, going up.
The headmaster's office was illuminated only by the light of the stars and by the gleam of extracted thoughts in the Pensieve, repeatedly reflected from the mirrored walls of the cabinet in which it was built. This light was enough to distinguish not only the outlines but everything else. In his chair sat the headmaster, and the moon, suddenly and so just in time, came out from behind the clouds and colored the office blue-black. The blackened right hand of the headmaster was perfectly visible against this background.
"Ah, Severus, Max, come in..." it was unusual to hear the absence of "mister" in Dumbledore's speech. But his voice was still firm and strong, though not without a hint of fatigue. "Come in."
Dumbledore spun around in his chair so that we could approach him from the right, just to his hand.
"Max... Mr. Knight," the Headmaster corrected himself and looked over his half-frame glasses into my eyes. "I would like to ask you to examine my arm."
Professor Snape muttered something quietly behind my back, and it was clearly not approving.
"Severus has already given his opinion, but I would like your opinion as well."
The headmaster stretched out his hand, placing it on the table, and now I could see it. It was black like it was charred. There was strange and unpleasant magic that was spreading through the old man's body. I took out my wand and began to move it over the headmaster's hand, releasing unstructured magic and listening for reactions. Actually, there was no reaction. Then I cast a simple diagnostic spell, then a more complex one, and then an even more complex one.
It's amazing how Voldemort could cast such an incredible curse! I recognized about a third, so to speak, of the elements in it, similar to the description in the rather ancient scrolls from both the Restricted Section and the library at Grimmauld Place, which had something like that. But the rest...
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